Breathing words
by tintenstern
Summary: Arthur had the special gift of bringing words to live when he read them. This gift might just bring him his special someone... USUK


This was written for the usxuk summer camp over at lj, the theme was literature. It's sort of a crossover with _Inkheart_ by Cornelia Funke, one of my favourite books.

* * *

><p><strong>Breathing words<strong>

Arthur had a special gift. Ever since he was a child, he could bring things out of stories into the real world whenever he read them aloud. The first time it had happened, he had been reading a fairytale book and had been thrilled too see a _real_ fairy in his room, fluttering around him. Soon, he had discovered that fairies were not the only thing he could bring to live: from teacups over expensive garments and jewelery to small animals, other magical creatures and even a dragon – soon, his room was full of it. He called them "breathing words". Never once did he think that his voice was unusual or that it could even be a bad thing, until one day, his parents found out when he was reading a story to his little brother and a living fish appeared in the living room.

From that day on, he wasn't allowed to read aloud, especially when he was around people. He stopped volunteering to read in school and when he had to, he would try to read as badly as possible and it wasn't long until the children in school laughed at him for stuttering. The only comfort he found was at home, when he was in his room and could read, sometimes only in a whisper, always smiling whenever a creature or object left the pages, laughing when a fairy sat on his hand.

However, there was one thing he had yet to bring to the real world: a human being. Only years later, when he was a young adult, would that change.

XXXXXXX

Arthur Kirkland, now twenty-three years old, sighed. He still loved literature with a passion and now worked as an editor for a publishing company, reading all the stories before anyone else. He loved his job, though sometimes it was unnerving. Especially when he had to deal with aspiring writer Francis Bonnefoy, that annoying Frenchman who always knew how to get on his nerves and while Arthur hated to admit it, he always enjoyed reading his new works. It so happened that at the moment, he was waiting for Francis to bring the script of his newest book. "Stupid frog," he muttered under his breath, "always late..." He sipped at his tea, looking around the coffeehouse. Beside families and groups of friends, there were many couples. Sometimes, when he was all alone in his apartment, reading all those romantic novels the Frenchman loved to write, he would catch himself thinking how nice it would be to have that special someone. But he would never say that out loud.

Finally, he spotted his friend entering the coffeehouse. He put on his fiercest scowl when Francis arrived. After the man had ordered his coffee, Arthur scolded: "You're late as always."

"Ah, _je suis désolé_," Francis said with a dramatic voice, "but I'm here now, am I not? So let's get to business!"

Arthur snorted. "I'm the one who should be saying that."

Francis laughed and took out a stack of paper, putting it on the table between them. "I just gave it the finishing touch today," he said proudly. He took a sip at his coffee, while Arthur took the script.

"What is it about?"

"Oh, you'll like it," he answered, "it has heroes, villains, different forms of magic abilities, some action, dramatic scenes and – of course – a bit of romance, too!" The last part was added with a wink.

"Sounds alright," Arthur said, carefully putting the script in his bag, "but I'll see if it's good enough. I'll contact you once I'm finished."

"Yes, yes, of course. Is there anything else? Because if not, I need to leave – I have a date with Matthew and don't want to make him wait."

"No, that would be all."

They both payed and then left in different directions, Francis to wherever he would be meeting Matthew, while Arthur went straight home. Once there, he made some fresh tea and settled down comfortably, starting to read. The Frenchman hadn't lied, it was a good read. The story flowed nicely, the characters were likeable (though Arthur had a feeling that the girl who seemed to have a crush on the main character was based off of him, for which he would have to have a serious word with the frog later) but something felt wrong. Even when he was more than halfway through, there were no breathing words yet. Just as he wondered if maybe he had lost his gift, he heard a noise.

When he looked up, his eyes widened at the sight before him. Here, in his living room, a young man was sprawled out on the floor. Even though Arthur thought it was impossible, even with his voice, he knew what it meant. For the first time, he had succeeded in bringing a character to live.

With a rush of excitement, he took a closer look at the man. From what he could see – the boy was lying face-down – everything about him was just as Arthur had imagined. He was well-built, his clothing casual but nice-looking, a strand of his golden hair seemed to defy gravity, and even though they were closed, Arthur knew exactly what color they were. _As blue as the sky on a summer's day_, he quoted in his head.

The man – _Alfred F. Jones_, Arthur reminded himself – stirred, groaning. "Man, what happened...?" He blinked open his eyes, taking in his surroundings with confusion. "Where am I...?"

"Well, obviously not at home anymore," Arthur remarked dryly, not knowing what else to say (_how the hell was he supposed to know what to say to someone he just summoned out of a story?_).

Alfred looked up at him, mouth slightly open. "I can see that much," he replied, "and you're...?"

"Arthur Kirkland," Arthur introduced himself and before the other could speak, he added: "And you're Alfred F. Jones, so called hero extraordinaire."

"How do you know my name?"

Arthur held up the script. "It's all in here." At Alfred's still confused look, Arthur sighed. "Have a seat. I'll explain everything."

XXXXXXX

While Arthur explained, Alfred hung onto his every word. He half expected the boy to call him crazy, but his reaction was different. "So you mean this is some kind of parallel world to my own? Dude, that's so cool!," he blurted out.

Arthur didn't quite know what to say. "W-well, you seem to cope with it well... but don't you miss your home and your friends?"

Alfred thought for a moment. "A bit perhaps... but I love adventures, and after all, I'm a hero!," he answered, then added: "Alice will be pissed off that I'm not showing up on that date thingy, but I'm not even sure if I like her like that..."

There was a moment of silence. Arthur stood and turned to the kitchen. "You must be hungry, right? I'll prepare something for dinner." Without waiting for a reply, he left. Though most people said he was a terrible cook, Arthur himself could find nothing wrong with his cooking. The others were just jealous of his skills. With that thought in mind, he began cooking and a while later, he proudly presented the (burned) dinner to his guest.

"Uh... and what exactly is that supposed to be?," Alfred asked warily.

"It's fish and chips, of course!," Arthur answered with a huff.

When Arthur began eating, Alfred carefully followed suit. It wasn't exactly the best experience and he really wanted to say it was terrible, but when his host was looking at him expectantly, he somehow couldn't say a bad word. "It's, uh, good," he said instead, "best fish and chips I've ever had." And the smile he got seemed to make up for the lie.

After dinner, they returned to the living room. Alfred told about life in his world and wanted to know more about the world he was now in. Arthur had to promise he would show him around, leading in childish excitement from Alfred. As it was getting late, Arthur prepared the guestroom for Alfred to sleep in. They bid each other goodnight and went to sleep.

The next morning, they left right after breakfast. Alfred was excited to see everything and compare it to his home, while Arthur only hoped they wouldn't run into anyone he knew. They also stopped by some stores because Alfred needed clothes. The Hero felt bad when Arthur paid for them, but Arthur said it was fine and he could always pay back later. Around lunchtime, they got something to eat and went to the park because the weather was really nice.

Alfred seemed content just watching the surroundings: couples and families going for a walk, teenagers playing sports, children on the playground and of course, the beautiful nature; green leaves rustling in the wind and colourful flowerbeds. They ate in comfortable silence, neither seeing the need to break it. After they finished eating, they began talking again. It amazed Arthur how Alfred could be excited about the smallest things. Also, it flustered him that the boy was eager to listen while in the story, he was known for being brash and disrupting other people. This gesture of attention made his heartbeat speed up and his insides feel all warm and fuzzy.

Lost in their conversation, they didn't realize the time pass so they were surprised when they looked around them and were nearly alone in the park. With a look at his watch, Arthur said: "It's time for dinner... we should go back home." Alfred agreed and they returned.

Later that night, Alfred had begged Arthur to read something for him because he wanted to see for himself how it happened when something (or someone) left the pages. So it was with a sigh that Arthur took out one of his favourite fairytale books and settled on the couch, Alfred next to him, and began reading, with each tale bringing out at least one creature or item. Alfred's eyes shone like a child's on their birthday, complimenting Arthur's voice and repeating over and over how cool and awesome it was.

Arthur was now drinking a cup of tea and doing some embroidery while Alfred played with the fairies, when the telephone rang. Without looking for the caller, he answered.

"Arthur!," said an unmistakably French voice at the end of the line, "is something wrong? Usually you call me the same day after receiving the script! It's now been a day!"

"Hello Francis," Arthur greeted, "I apologize, something came up and I was distracted."

"Oh?," he could practically _hear_ the frog raise his eyebrow, "but did you finish?"

"Yes, of course I finished!," Arthur replied. Well, it wasn't entirely true, but he reckoned the conversations with Alfred to be a good compensation. Not that Francis needed to know that. "It's decent work."

"See, I knew you'd like it!" Francis called out in triumph. "So, how did you like the main character?"

"Alfred?" Arthur paused for a moment, watching the breathing version of the character laugh and play. A smile crept on his lips. "He's perfect. Breathing words." He bid farewell, saying they'd have another meeting soon and then hung up. When he joined the boy on the floor and earned a grin, he smiled back brightly. He couldn't be more happier with his gift than he was at that moment.


End file.
